


Details of the Dream

by Helvirago



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-05
Updated: 2003-09-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 22:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helvirago/pseuds/Helvirago
Summary: This part is a dream.  This part is real.





	Details of the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Details of the Dream

## Details of the Dream

by Hel Virago

Disclaimer: I don't even own the punk from the poster or the long-haired wack-job drummer.

Author's Notes: ds_flashfiction, did you ever know that you're my hero?

Story Notes: Written for the flashfiction "sex" challenge. Oh yeah, that was real hard for me.

This story is a sequel to: Coincidence 

* * *

In dreams, you can fuck forever. And Christ, but Ray had every intention of it. See, in real life, his back had been kinda strained -- his own fault, nobody said he had to make a C with his spine every time Big-and-Buff pushed in -- he'd started to worry about scraping his hands up (and explaining it to Stella), and really, even back then it'd been not the greatest idea to just pick some total stranger up, no matter how sexy he looked or how hard his eyes were telling Ray he was gonna fuck him the minute Ray turned around. 

But now, there was no Stella, there was no strain, and it'd turned out the guy either wasn't a crazed axe murderer or Ray wasn't his type, so none of that was there. There was just Ray and the guy, the guy and Ray, the guy with the nice dick Ray'd barely got a glimpse of, and Ray with the sweetest reason to be a bottom he'd had in years. Ray and the guy and the river, and the river didn't much care. The river did provide cover, even in the dream, cause dark for the night or not, the buildings were ringing with Ray's yelps and "come on, come on, harder!" and the guy's grunts and "oh yeah, oh good, yes, come on." Because it was a dream, they didn't need cover. Of course, because it was a dream, Stella was watching and giving a critique: "Do it harder, he can take it" and so was some guy he'd only seen on a poster: "No no, he don't need no reacharound, not yet, do ya?" and Welsh: "Detective, is that the best you can do? Let's see some hip action out there" and -- this was the freaky one -- Thatcher: "Come on, man, put some back into it!" 

But they all floated away on that river, melted into darkness and brick and the big guy was still fucking like he was trying to make it last. "It's a dream," Ray said, "so we're not gonna have to stop." The guy didn't look sure, so Ray showed him his badge: "It's okay. I'm gonna be a fucked-up detective with emotional issues when I grow up, so you can trust me." 

The man gave a hoarse grunt and began to pound in harder, settling in for the long haul, and a solicitous Volpe brought Ray a pillow and a podium to make the position more comfortable, because Ray was moving in for good, setting up housekeeping right here, "Yeah, I'm Ray Vewalski Kokio the Secret and that's the guy whose dick lives in my ass, what can I do for you?" and never ever leaving. 

They fucked for hours: sun came up, sun went down, the guy said Ray had the sweetest ass and had he ever considered life insurance? 

And then, of course, it was actually the same night and he was going to be late, but still he just wanted to stay, just wanted to... and Beautiful Dick guy grabbed his cock and squeezed while his thrusts went short and sharp and he jerked the orgasm out of him all over the fondly-remembered individually-blessed bricks in front of him in a sort of abstract neo-Renaissance Rothko-esque splash. 

Probably he'd just had his first wet dream in freaking years out in real life and he was gonna have to sneak a load of laundry before his mum made her weekly visit, but in here Ray just leaned his head against the wall and felt the guy's sweaty head on his back and asked the guy not to do the weird offering-him-a-drink thing this time, okay? And the guy agreed, saying Ray didn't have anywhere to be this time anyway, and no Stella to jump on him and fuck him in some weird star-fucking-transferrence deal that he certainly wasn't going to question. So they just stood panting for a minute, receiving the applause and adulation of the masses. 

Stella sent a telegram -- "I knew you had it in you, Ray," -- and some long-haired wack-job was doing something obscene with a drumstick and a donut which was apparently a compliment, and Welsh applauded, yelling, "Well done, what's-your-name!" and Thatcher handed the guy a Mountie hat and said, "That's the way, Constable!" and Fraser pulled his dick out of Ray's ass and Ray woke up and began freaking out. 

* * *

End Details of the Dream by Hel Virago:

Author and story notes above.


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